Monday, October 3, 2011

I've not blogged hardly all summer, too busy having yard sales to pay for my stay at the Chateau Marmont, trash picking the Mohave, dumpster diving north shore mansions, doing community service, stiffly dancing at a black club called "Sensations" (the kind of place that has a banner instead of a sign) in Nashville, looting the burned down house of an alleged pedophile in the middle of Indiana, putting fresh flowers on James Dean's grave, unexpectedly seeing a Metallica cover band in a roadhouse shanty--after visiting about a hundred turtles from the Galapagos Islands and Madagascar who happen to live in an entire wing of my friend's dad's mansion--the mansion also was completely Eyes Wide Shut style-- and waking up at 5am most days to serve coffee and beer to a handful of cranky men who pretend not to be rich, WHILE trying to open a store. The store is in Pilsen on 18th St, it's called Angel Dust, it will open in a few weeks. If you are looking for a place to buy a shredded tire from the middle of Twentynine Palms, California or a hand-studded leather jacket with a Judas Priest backpatch I got you covered.

OR any item this guy is wearing (seriously I have some Vision pants AND varsity jackets):

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

There are so many things I love about you, such as when you give me your old Powell/Peralta tshirts, or get ice for me at my job and bring me painkillers when I hurt my back, or help me jump my weird car. I like it that you have electronics that I can borrow, or if I somehow get my own--usually from an awesome boy-- you can fix for me. What I despise about you though is that you shove in front of me toward the end of a show, during my favorite song, and jock around with your wretched friend who, SOMEHOW, has worse hair than you. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING HERE??? Why aren't you out at a beer garden with the other people who work at Enterprise Rental Car?

Monday, July 4, 2011

The other day at work (who knows the fuck why) we were talking about Marilyn Monroe's height. Someone said they thought she was like 6 feet tall, and I, of course, was like, what the fuck are you talking about, she was totally not tall AND Carmelo goes, "Yeah, she prolly wore those, those, uh push-up clogs." I said, "What, high heels?" (Laughter) "Yeah." PUSH UP CLOGS. Where do you even come up with that????? Awesome.

THEN Vinny made me nearly wizard my pants when he complimented a customer's Rolex*. He did it with a totally straight face. I was standing next to him and had to roll my eyes over like one of those cat clocks to peep this timepiece...it sincerely took every molecule of my being not to howl with laughter, seeing as it was a WOMAN'S Rolex on a man!!!!!! And it was the most gaudy gold shitter on earth, there were practically lazers shooting off it it was so gold and shiny. After he walked away Vinny kept saying, between hysterical laughter, "That was a woman's Rolex. IT HAD THE THIN BAND! It had the thin band."

*We discuss and make fun of Rolex constantly and have for more than a year. We also mercilessly make fun of Chase Sapphire credit cards and when any person pays with one we hand them their card back and say, "And here is your Chase Sapphire card back". Vinny was the one to start doing that. It nearly killed me.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

I am in Detroit right now, and I thought I'd share some highlights so far since it's 1:30 in the afternoon and my host is still sleeping.

On the train to get to downtown I saw a Latina with a tattoo (DIY style) of a two headed sad clown holding a scroll with a bunch of tiny hearts on it with names over the hearts. The only name I could make out was "Ramon". The scroll was also circled with a magic wand (I think?). It was the most utterly AMAZING shit I've EVER seen. I stared at it nonstop for 20 minutes memorizing every detail so I can later get the same tattoo (dead serious). The chick was cute too, like not a trasher.

So I get on the megabus and it's fine. I was tired and hungover, so I capped it off with some special Tylenols, perfection. But the air conditioning on the fucking bus broke, and even though it was no big deal, like it felt totally fine, we had to wait for them to bring us another bus. Thank god for that cos I never would have witnessed a normal looking girl, like some bore who works in her dad's office for the summer and has a golden retriever and who's grandpa is her "best friend" shit like that, whip out a circular drum pad and some drum sticks and start wailing on that fucker, playing along to something on her headphones. The fact that I had to bear witness to that ALONE, was torture. Off to the side were some baby dykes with shaved heads playing ukeles. There was one point in particular that I wanted to die when the heavier one was playing this uke like she was playing bass in Slipknot all like grooving heavy style, and her glasses were on the very furthest tip of her nose. It looked COMPLETELY INSANE.

Then last night we went to Centerfold, a really amazing strip club. They were playing the best music! Since I had drank about a million beers + about 50 whiskeys (yeah, I'm really cool) I fuckin LOST it when Pantera came on. It is by the grace of god that I didn't stage dive. I tipped this stripper $2 and she gave me a fucking HUG, pointed out some type of foot problem to me and goes, "I work really hard for this shit". I was like, "Yeah."

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Ok, I wanted to be a purist with my whole analog set up, and it IS something I think is important and I'm committed to doing, BUT in the interest of time (right now) I'm more concerned with keeping on top of this bastard.

So this entry will be a newsletter of what is to come, which is a lot.

I'm selling a bunch of my stuff, and if you have Paypal you will have first pick before my first yard sale of the season (Deep Troll/Legacy Club presents a Cafe Society Parisian Flea Market Curated by Pierre and Michele). If you are in Chicago, stop by the 3000 block of Logan Blvd at the corner of Logan, Kedzie, and Milwaukee the first Sunday in June 9am-4pm, across from the Farmers Market. Its gonna be Fuckken SIIIIICK. But the pre-sale will be up on here asap, as well as some pre-Ebay stuff. GET STOKED bitches.

Between working 70 hours a week, buying a rusty 1981 Mercedes, getting the world's slowest tattoo--I can't believe I got myself into that one, I'm not some fucking rockabilly slob or anything and I am NOT a tattoo showboater (you may never see this fucker on here or in real life even though it is an OOC full sleeve). Basically all I'm saying is it's taking a TON of time to do, plus personal stuff, thrifting, TV watching, best friend phone talking, and porching (drinking brews on the porch for many hours and embarrassing myself by passionately blathering about deep sea creatures and the 1983 BMW 5 series VS the 1977-1983 Mercedes Benz 300D and/or the 240D. Sigh.